You have now arrived at the 1st chapter of the e-book, “Judgment Day-RX7″. If you are just arriving at this web site, you are invited to start here at the beginning of the trail (Chapter 1).

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HOME: CH.1: “Beginning Of The Trail”

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THE LOVE OF GOD

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VERSE 1.

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“The love of God is greater far

than tongue or pen can ever tell;

It goes beyond the highest star,

and reaches to the lowest Hell…

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VERSE 3.

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“…Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made,

were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade;

To write the love of God above,

would drain the ocean dry;

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

though stretched from sky to sky.”

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Verse 3 was penciled on the wall of a narrow room in an insane asylum by a man said to have been demented. The profound lines were discovered when they laid him in his coffin.

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Ch. 1 Beginning

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Of The Trail

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Summer, 1980

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In a few seconds I will plunge to almost certain death!

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Anything to rid myself of this insane voice that keeps plaguing me! Even as I’m standing here at death’s door, he’s still mocking me… Talking, talking…always talking…”Ohhh Chu-u-u-ck! I’m gonna miss you, boo hoo! Sob sob. sniffle sniffle.” This…uh… “friend” is a great mocker. And I’m at the end of my rope with this unwanted companion! “Ohh Chuck, don’t leave me! I’m gonna be sooo lonely! Sob, sniffle.” See!? See what a mocker he is!? Death will be a welcomed release from all this! And from him!

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At this point, I’m no longer talking with him. I’m just putting up with him. He talks! He mocks! And I just tolerate. But I can only barely tolerate him! What else can I do? He’s invisible! It’s not like I can just shoo him away!

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But now, I’ve found a way out! And who can blame me for ending it all? Who can disagree that taking this plunge is the only way out? Not to mention, the terror of this situation I’ve suffered for so long…

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Well… What would you do if you were in my shoes? Well, if you think you’d do different, let me just tell you my story. Then you make up your own mind. OK? Fair enough?

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Good! Then we’ll turn back the pages of time from the late summer of 1980, to about 16 months earlier. Back to spring, 1979.

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That’s when all Hell broke loose…

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Spring, 1979

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“Singin’ to the world, it’s time we let the spirit come in, (Let it come on in).

“I’m singin’ to the world, everybody’s caught in a spin. (Look at where we’ve been).

“We’ve been runnin’ around… year after year…blinded by pride…blinded by fear—

“Cause it’s daybreak. If ya only believe,

“it can be daybreak, ain’t no time to grieve,

“said it’s daybreak, if ya only believe,

“and let it shine, shine, shine….all around the world…….

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“Far out, man!” That was my last song for a whole month! As I made my way out of the auditorium to my car, I noticed my hands were starting to tremble again. “Maybe a month’s vacation will stop this shaking.”, I told myself. I probably shook my head, as if to shake away these thoughts outa my head, so I wouldn’t think about it. But frankly… it worried me. I didn’t want to believe I was having some sort of a breakdown, or whatever. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was losing control.

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AN INTRODUCTION IS IN ORDER

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This is me. My name is Chuck. I’m your typical 28 year old. Typical for back in 1979, that is. Do I look a little clueless? Well, I am. I mean I was. But all that was about to change. Oh, and how do you like my little black sports car? It’s an RX-7. Just got it, not too long ago.

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NEXT DAY…

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Anyway, I was ready for a much-needed vacation. I was all packed. The motor-home was ready to roll. A whole month off! From work. From the club. From this local beauty pageant that I got roped into performing a song at. Oh well, it was just a one-song gig… and not to mention alotta pretty ladies there!

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And now this last commitment was done with, and there was nothing between me and a trip through the Southwest: Disneyland, Vegas, Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, and finally Lake Tahoe. A real dream vacation!

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So I climbed up into the cab of the motor-home. Ready to roll. But something caught my eye. Something in the ash tray. Someone left something there in the ashtray.“Wow! Neil Diamond’s new cassette! I wonder who left it here? Hey, there’s no note attached!Oh well. Beautiful weather. Great music. Great day!”So it was time to start up the engine. Put in this new cassette, turned the music way up… and rolled out… onto the highway. Neil Diamond belting out his tunes, with his one-of-a-kind style. “Goodbye schedules! Goodbye restaurant! HELLO HIGHWAY!!”

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Picture of motor-home courtesy wikipedia Public Domain.

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THE GRAND CANYON

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ABOUT TEN DAYS LATER…We were just walking down into the canyon. This was great! Weather was just right. The hikers were just practically skipping down the trail. It was like a walk in the park. Better! The force of gravity just kinda carried the hikers down, down, down (as we descended, I noticed it getting gradually hotter).

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TWO MULES FOR SISTER SARA…NONE FOR ME… After about three hours, I reached the bottom. Walking down along the river trail at the bottom, I began to get worried about the journey back up to the top of the canyon, the next day. Man…that’s a long way back up that steep trail! If it took three hours to walk down, then how long will it take to get back up…uh-h…Maybe I could rent a pack mule at the visitor center here at the bottom. Maybe I’ll find Sister Sara. You know, like that old movie, “Two Mules For Sister Sara”. She’ll have an extra mule! One for her, and one for me! Ha ha…Uh Hmm-m.

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So I walked through the crowded restaurant, asking about a mule. No such luck though! Oh well… I don’t have to make that climb till tomorrow! And tomorrow’s tomorrow! And that’s a long time from now! Right?

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BLIND MAN AT BOTTOM…I decided to buy an ice cream bar at an open-air snack stand. There were a number of people ahead of me in line. And as I waited in line, I noticed the young man who worked at the window was wearing extremely thick glasses, which also had a magnifying glass attached to his already super-thick glasses. “Man, that poor guy is almost blind!”, I thought to myself while I stood there in line. And with all those lenses, this nearly blind clerk still had to hold each piece of money right up close to his attached magnifying glasses in order to tell how much each coin and each bill was! It was impossible to not feel bad for this poor guy as he struggled with each customer. Even a brash young arrogant schmuck like myself could feel sorry for this guy!

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THAT EVENING…

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WHAT’S A BROTHER FOR?… That evening there were hikers spread out all over the canyon floor, about 100 feet apart with their sleeping bags. And so I went for my bag. Actually it wasn’t exactly my bag. I kind-of borrowed it from my brother. It was such a nice compact little bag. It was just hanging there on the wall, begging to be borrowed. “What are brothers for!?” So I grabbed it on the way out the door, as I left on my vacation.

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WHAT’S THIS !?…But upon opening it, I was shocked to discover, it wasn’t a sleeping bag at all. It was a parka! A LITTLE… NYLON… PARKA!!! It wasn’t even lined! No wonder it was so compact! “What am I gonna do!?” I was down here at the bottom of the Grand Canyon! Not too many options! And so, I laid down on the hard ground, and tried to pull this lightweight parka over my feet and legs. And so began an all-night wrestling match with this little parka. Needless to say, the parka won the wrestling match!

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Picture courtesy USPS & Wikipedia. Public Domain

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MORNING AT BOTTOM OF CANYON

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After tossing and turning most of the night, finally the light of dawn arrived. All the campers began to roll up their sleeping bags. I rolled up my little parka and put it back in its little nylon bag.

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ARTIST’S VIEWPOINT…

I looked up at the steep canyon walls, as I was instructed to do. I took a long look at these massive rocks of the canyon walls. A man who was a really great artist, a very well-known nature painter back in Klamath Falls, suggested that I take special note of the canyon walls in the early morning light.

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And so I looked. And they were beautiful! And very soon, the sun began to peak over the rim of the canyon. And the light began to spread itself over the walls, as if it was a coat of paint running down the walls of this ancient canyon.

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A paint of light. Spreading itself evenly over this ancient work of art.

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Canyon Walls, Courtesy USPS & Wikipedia. Pub. Dom.

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MULE-FREE ME…

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And in a few minutes after breakfast we began our ascent back out of this amazing work of nature. There must have been about several hundred people or so, who spent the night in the canyon.

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It wasn’t too long in the ascent, when I probably began to surmise, that it was becoming easier to tell the smart people from the stupid ones. The smart ones, of course, were on pack mules!

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I was still tired from a pretty much sleepless night. But on the other hand, I had been jogging back home in Klamath for the past several years now, and was in pretty decent physical condition. However, I had just resumed smoking several weeks earlier, but had not begun to suffer the results yet.

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The first part of the climb was fairly gentle, for an hour or so. But before long, I had to take a rest. The trail steepened into what is known as “switch-backs”. They went for a short distance, and then switched back in the opposite direction. So there seemed to be an endless number of these “switchbacks”.

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Time passed. Finally one hour…and then two hours…three. It was impossible to tell how far it was to the top. These sheer walls made that impossible. Another hiker began to swoon. I became really worried that she might faint, and fall off these narrow trails, down into the canyon below.

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Those who were smart enough to have a mule, were passing us hikers by. We had to stop and hug the canyon walls each time, to let them by, and wish that we were on one. It was amazing how sure-footed those mules were. Nevertheless, I trusted my own feet more than I trusted those mules. They looked pretty scary as they made a wide swing around each sharp turn of those sharp switch-back corners!

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Photo of the “Bright Angel Trail” courtesy of USPS.

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By four of five hours, the hikers began to stretch our necks to get a glimpse of the trail’s end. But in our disappointment, there was just another switch-back. Switch-back after switch-back. It was getting really monotonous! But there was no other alternative. If you wanted to get out of this hell-hole alive, you just had to keep walking upward, along the trail.

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Five hours finally turned into six. No end in sight. Six turned into seven. Still only one switch-back after another. I don’t know if I ever considered how monotonous it must have been for those who originally carved out these switch-backs.

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The pack-mules kept passing. I kept taking endless breaks. More and more I looked…hoping to see the words, “TRAILS END“.But just another switch-back. Now it was about eight hours of hiking this seemingly endless trail.

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TRAIL’S END…

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Suddenly, without a hint, the trail ended. It just ended! Our journey was over! Done! We were finished! We reached the top. I just collapsed on a soft green grass provided by the park service! And so did others!

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We made it! Yeah! We did it! Mules? Who needs em! In my short walk back to the motor-home I stopped to talk to a park employee. This person informed me that some cross-country runners had just run down to the bottom and back up to the top in about 3 hours. “Three hours!?”, I exclaimed. This information took the air out of my now-rapidly-growing-ego-bubble. But at least I made it! And was I ever glad it was over!

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Looking back on this, of course I’m happy I experienced this unforgettable hike. And now it’s just a memory…a highlight. But would I do it over again? I’ll let you figure that one out!

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Courtesy USPS & Wikipedia. Pub. Dom.

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“SIGNS, SIGNS,

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EVERYWHERE A SIGN…”

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Later that evening, when I was back in my motor-home, I turned on the TV. It was my favorite new comedian. He was doing some skit, in which he supposedly had lost everything in life. There he was, sitting in a dumpster. But just then, his friends came and pulled him out of the dumpster. They had found some pennies he had invested years earlier. And to this comedian’s delight, they showed how his pennies had accrued while he was in this disheveled state. So he wasn’t broke after all. Well, this comedy sketch was really funny at the time. I can’t remember why. Well, this comedian was just plain funny! And so I laid there on the motor-home couch and laughed so hard, I almost fell onto the floor.

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Little did I know, that in just a few months, I was about to lose all my earthly wealth. And little did I know I would be scrounging like a beggar. And nobody could’ve convinced me that I was gonna be cast into an abyss much deeper than this Grand Canyon that was just outside my motor-home door.

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Photo of summit courtesy of USNPS Public Domain photo. .

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UPWARD TO ZION

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After the Grand Canyon, it was northward and upward to Zion National Park. The motor-home was rolling along the highway just fine. As I approached the state border, I noticed the beautiful red rocks of the desert. And every so often there were little stands with Navajo Indian blankets and jewelry for sale. It was really beautiful in its own way out there in the desert. I wouldn’t want to live there. But I’m sure those who live there, love it there.

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As I said, the motor-home was tooling along just fine; just fine that is, until the wind began to blow. And it began to blow so hard I feared the motor-home might blow completely over! I tried to go really slowly, but the wind just kept getting stronger it seemed.

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Finally I pulled over into some rest-stop. Should I wait out the wind-storm? Although I was an atheist, I vaguely recall that I sensed that there was a greater power preventing me from going forward. Or maybe I didn’t. I can’t exactly recall. But it adds to the intrigue of this story, to think that I did!

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Finally I decided not to wait. I turned the motor-home around and back-tracked to California. And the farther we back-tracked, the more the wind died down. I guess it was the right decision to turn around.

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Beautiful, beautiful Zion would have to wait until perhaps another day.

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“BAD MOON RISING”

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FOUR PROPHETS OF DOOM… .

It was now October 1979. Five months after my vacation in the Southwest. I was back to work at the restaurant. And my singing partner and I began a new gig at a local steak-house three nights a week. One afternoon, while rehearsing down at the club, we decided to play a few hands of poker. Five-Card-Draw. After dealing the cards, my partner went to the restroom. While she did, I looked at my cards. She had dealt me FOUR KINGS!! My eyes bugged out.

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In a few minutes she returned, and we resumed our game. I asked for no cards. When I laid down my hand and she saw those four kings, she accused me of cheating. I can’t say I blame her since she had left the room, leaving me there alone with my cards. Well, she got angry and needless to say, this brought our card game to a swift end.

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But looking back, I have to say, this was a sooth-saying moment. Because in a few weeks I was soon to encounter the King of the Universe. And the time had come for that King to pronounce Judgment on this unsuspecting night club musician (me!) And looking back, I can say… these four kings dealt to me that day were just “four prophets of doom”… MY DOOM!

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“HOW LOW CAN YOU GO”…

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I was on my break during a packed-house night. A man who was crippled happened to walk through the bar. In order to make some ladies laugh, I mimicked the odd way this crippled man walked. One of the ladies laughed. The other said, “That wasn’t nice!” I suppose the one who laughed probably didn’t think it was funny either. I didn’t usually make such a low-grade jest. However, there was one time back at high school that I also made fun of a crippled girl in front of others. And in 15 years since that thoughtless high school prank, I still hadn’t learned my lesson. But I was gonna learn my lesson! Soon! Very soon!

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“ONE EYE IS TAKEN FOR AN EYE”…

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Little did I know, that in just a few weeks, I would become the object of pity and possibly the object of mimic as well. I suppose at some point in time, I could’ve been talking with customers in this bar somewhere. And a certain song was playing. And as I drank down my bourbon, or whatever, I never dreamed that this certain song (Bad Moon Rising) and those four kings were going to be the only warnings I would have, for what lay in store from me, in just a few weeks! Yeah, this song was exactly telling it like it is! And I just thought it was a good dance song!

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King playing cards wikimedia GNU Free Documentation License

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BAD MOON RISING

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by John Fogarty

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“I see the bad moon arising. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightning. I see bad times today.”

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CHORUS: “Don’t go around tonight,

Well, it’s bound to take your life,

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

SECOND VERSE:

“I hear hurricanes ablowing.

I know the end is coming soon. I fear rivers over flowing.

I hear the voice of rage and ruin.”

CHORUS:

“Don’t go around tonight,

Well, it’s bound to take your life,

There’s a bad moon on the rise”.

THIRD VERSE:

“Hope you got your things together.

Hope you are quite prepared to die.

Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.

One eye is taken for an eye.”.

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Go to Chapter 2, just click this link…

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So this happy atheist, Chuck, was going to become a believer in just a few weeks. And this conversion just might set the land-speed record for conversions! Or should I rather say, it might set the HELL’S-speed record for conversions!